Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(94)

It was an honest answer—and totally terrifying. Neither of them seemed to know what to say. So they sat in silence, connected but separate as the sun slowly sank toward the horizon.

A gong finally dismissed them, and Sophie followed the Waywards to the golden pavilion, where the blue Coach held a jar of green beads. The purple Coach clapped her hands, making the beads float until each Wayward had a bead hovering over their head, even Sophie.

“To our new Waywards, who do not understand our traditions,” the red Coach said. “We offer beads only to those we deem deserving. But it’s always your choice to refuse or accept.”

“Accepting comes with sacrifice,” the blue Coach warned. “The cost of continuing your fight for redemption. Refusing has no consequence, but it is also irreversible.”

“We won’t tell you how to decide,” the purple Coach finished. “You choose your path.”

Sophie reached for her bead and a jolt of electricity stung her hand. She hadn’t realized the sacrifice would be such a literal consequence. But she was glad to know she could survive it.

She tied the bead onto her black cord, and it looked so small next to the blue one. Especially considering how many beads the Waywards around her had.

“If you’re thinking it’ll get easier, it won’t,” a deep voice whispered in her ear.

She turned to find the Shade with his head tilted toward her. But he was too far away to be the whisperer.

She opened her mouth to reply and he nudged her attention to where the purple Coach stood watching.

“You should be careful,” his whispery voice said, despite the distance between them. “The Coaches are very interested in you.”

She couldn’t figure out how he was doing it, until she glanced down and noticed his shadow crossing hers.

Wait, Sophie transmitted, as he turned to walk away.

She hadn’t forgotten the physician’s warnings—or Fitz’s—but she couldn’t pass up a chance to make a connection.

She didn’t trust him, though, so she went with something safe.

Can you tell your Hydrokinetic friend “thank-you” for saving me?

His shadow slipped over hers again, and she could almost feel his eyes studying her. “You’re different,” his voice whispered. “I can’t decide if that’s a good thing.”

It is, she transmitted, surprised at how much she wanted him to believe her.

He walked away without another word.





FORTY-FOUR


THE FIVE FRIENDS held hands as they leaped away from Exillium, and all the Coaches and Waywards stared.

“I don’t think we’re doing so great at the whole ‘blending in’ thing,” Keefe said as they reappeared in a gray-skied forest. “Which is why you guys are my favorite.”

“What happened here?” Biana whispered as she turned toward the trees. Their trunks were unnaturally bent and crooked. “It’s not the plague, is it?”

“No, the forest has been like this for decades,” Sophie said. “I remember seeing pictures of this place on the Internet.”

“The Internet,” Dex snorted. “Humans and their technology.”

“It looks like somebody bent them intentionally,” Fitz said, tracing his hand down one of the C-shaped trunks.

“I did.” Calla dropped into the clearing from the top of one of the trees. “I sang to them, and they followed my voice.”

“Why only these trees?” Sophie asked. There were hundreds with the same distinct shape, but the forest beyond was straight and normal.

Calla placed her palm against the sharpest part of the curve, where the tree stood only inches above the ground. “These trees were dying. My friends told me I should uproot them to spare the rest of the forest. But I could feel too much life in their trunks to pluck them from the ground.”

“How did you save them?” Biana asked.

“I listened. And I realized their voices had been silenced. So I gave them mine. I sang of sunlight and rain and rich soil. And hope. Always hope.” She moved to another tree, one that had the widest curve of them all, and lay in the slope of its trunk. “For a week I stayed right here. I didn’t stop, even to rest my throat. I could barely rasp by the end, but I could feel their strength returning. They’ll forever bear the mark of their trials, but they are survivors. Proof that anything can be overcome.”

Keefe sat on one of the curved trunks, and Sophie waited for him to make a joke. But he just slid his fingers over the rough bark.

“I thought we could all use the reminder that nature tells us what it needs,” Calla whispered. “That’s why I chose this as our meeting place.”

She closed her eyes, singing a slow melody. It was the sweetest song Sophie had ever heard, and the forest shimmered in response. The crooked trees rustled as if they were joining in the chorus, and the wind whistled through their leaves.

“It’s beautiful,” Biana whispered, waving her fingers in front of her face. “I think I finally see the glints of life you told me about, Calla.”

“If that’s true, then you now know how I see you.” Calla smiled when Biana’s eyes lit up.

Calla repeated the song again, and the sparkles intensified, until the whole forest looked painted with glitter. It faded when she kneeled at the foot of the tree. Her song turned softer, and the roots twisted and twirled until they’d swept aside the soil and formed a tunnel.